In The Bishop's Carriage [60]
an unpleasant job this of yours is," I said to her, smiling up at her for all the world as that tike of a baby had smiled at me, and watching her melt just as I had. "I'll not make it a bit harder. This thing's all a mistake. Which way? . . . I'll come back, Mr. Tausig, to receive your apology, but you can hardly expect me to go to lunch after this."
He growled a wrathful, resenting mouthful. But he looked a bit puzzled just the same.
He looked more puzzled yet, even bewildered, when we came back into the main office a quarter of an hour later, the woman and I, and she reported that no paper of any kind had she found.
Me? Oh, I was sweet amiability personified with the woman and with the Sergeant, who began to back-water furiously. But with Tausig--
What? You don't mean to say you're not on, Mag? Oh, dear, dear, it's well you had that beautiful wig of red hair that puts even Carter's in the shade; for you'd never have been a success in--in other businesses I might name.
Bamboozled the woman? Not a bit of it; you can't deceive women with mouths and eyes like that. It was just that I'd had a flash of genius in the minute I heard Tausig's voice, and in spite of my being so sure he wouldn't have me arrested I'd-- Guess, Mag, guess! There was only one way.
The baby, of course! In the moment I had--it wasn't long--I'd stooped down, pretending to kiss that cherub good-by, and in a jiffy I'd pinned that precious paper with a safety-pin to the baby's under-petticoat, preferring that risk to--
Risk! I should say it was. And now it was up to Nance to make good.
While Tausig insisted and explained and expostulated and at last walked out with the Sergeant--giving me a queer last look that was half-cursing, half-placating--I stood chatting sweetly with the woman who had searched me.
I didn't know just how far I might go with her. She knew the paper wasn't on me, and I could see she was disposed to believe I was as nice as she'd have liked me to be. But she'd had a lot of experience and she knew, as most women do even without experience, that if there's not always fire where there is smoke, it's because somebody's been clever enough and quick enough to cover the blaze.
"Well, good-by," I said, putting out my hand. "It's been disagreeable but I'm obliged to you for--why, where's my purse! We must have left it--" And I turned to go back into the room where I'd undressed.
"You didn't have any."
The words came clear and cold and positive. Her tone was like an icicle down my back.
"I didn't have any!" I exclaimed. "Why, I certainly--"
"You certainly had no purse, for I should have seen it and searched it if you had."
Now, what do you think of a woman like that?
"Nancy Olden," I said to myself, more in sorrow than in anger, "you've met your match right here. When a woman knows a fact and states it with such quiet conviction, without the least unnecessary emphasis and not a superfluous word, 'ware that woman. There's only one game to play to let you hang round here a bit longer and find out what's become of the baby. Play it!"
I looked at her with respect; it was both real and feigned.
"Of course, you must be right," I said humbly. "I know you wouldn't be likely to make a mistake, but, just to convince me, do you mind letting me go back to look?"
"Not at all," she said placidly. "If I go with you there's no reason why you should not look."
Oh, Mag, it was hard lines looking. Why?--Why, because the place was so bare and so small. There were so few things to move and it took such a short time, in spite of all I could do and pretend to do, that I was in despair.
"You must be right," I said at length, looking woefully up at her.
"Yes; I knew I was," she said steadily.
"I must have lost it."
"Yes."
There was no hope there. I turned to go.
"I'll lend you a nickel to get home, if you'll leave me your address," she said after a moment.
Oh, that admirable woman! She ought to be ruling empires instead of searching thieves. Look at the balance
He growled a wrathful, resenting mouthful. But he looked a bit puzzled just the same.
He looked more puzzled yet, even bewildered, when we came back into the main office a quarter of an hour later, the woman and I, and she reported that no paper of any kind had she found.
Me? Oh, I was sweet amiability personified with the woman and with the Sergeant, who began to back-water furiously. But with Tausig--
What? You don't mean to say you're not on, Mag? Oh, dear, dear, it's well you had that beautiful wig of red hair that puts even Carter's in the shade; for you'd never have been a success in--in other businesses I might name.
Bamboozled the woman? Not a bit of it; you can't deceive women with mouths and eyes like that. It was just that I'd had a flash of genius in the minute I heard Tausig's voice, and in spite of my being so sure he wouldn't have me arrested I'd-- Guess, Mag, guess! There was only one way.
The baby, of course! In the moment I had--it wasn't long--I'd stooped down, pretending to kiss that cherub good-by, and in a jiffy I'd pinned that precious paper with a safety-pin to the baby's under-petticoat, preferring that risk to--
Risk! I should say it was. And now it was up to Nance to make good.
While Tausig insisted and explained and expostulated and at last walked out with the Sergeant--giving me a queer last look that was half-cursing, half-placating--I stood chatting sweetly with the woman who had searched me.
I didn't know just how far I might go with her. She knew the paper wasn't on me, and I could see she was disposed to believe I was as nice as she'd have liked me to be. But she'd had a lot of experience and she knew, as most women do even without experience, that if there's not always fire where there is smoke, it's because somebody's been clever enough and quick enough to cover the blaze.
"Well, good-by," I said, putting out my hand. "It's been disagreeable but I'm obliged to you for--why, where's my purse! We must have left it--" And I turned to go back into the room where I'd undressed.
"You didn't have any."
The words came clear and cold and positive. Her tone was like an icicle down my back.
"I didn't have any!" I exclaimed. "Why, I certainly--"
"You certainly had no purse, for I should have seen it and searched it if you had."
Now, what do you think of a woman like that?
"Nancy Olden," I said to myself, more in sorrow than in anger, "you've met your match right here. When a woman knows a fact and states it with such quiet conviction, without the least unnecessary emphasis and not a superfluous word, 'ware that woman. There's only one game to play to let you hang round here a bit longer and find out what's become of the baby. Play it!"
I looked at her with respect; it was both real and feigned.
"Of course, you must be right," I said humbly. "I know you wouldn't be likely to make a mistake, but, just to convince me, do you mind letting me go back to look?"
"Not at all," she said placidly. "If I go with you there's no reason why you should not look."
Oh, Mag, it was hard lines looking. Why?--Why, because the place was so bare and so small. There were so few things to move and it took such a short time, in spite of all I could do and pretend to do, that I was in despair.
"You must be right," I said at length, looking woefully up at her.
"Yes; I knew I was," she said steadily.
"I must have lost it."
"Yes."
There was no hope there. I turned to go.
"I'll lend you a nickel to get home, if you'll leave me your address," she said after a moment.
Oh, that admirable woman! She ought to be ruling empires instead of searching thieves. Look at the balance